


My Doctor Told Me To Murder People (How to Reduce Your Stress)

by ModernArt2012



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Everyone's in Medicine, Feelings, Just Yuri being a stressed resident, M/M, medical AU, no actual murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 12:08:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13364400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ModernArt2012/pseuds/ModernArt2012
Summary: Where everyone is in medicine and Yuri is this close to murderizing everyone with a scalpel.





	My Doctor Told Me To Murder People (How to Reduce Your Stress)

**Author's Note:**

> For Nova.

Yuri was going to murder the attendings. This was _surgery_ not _eye fucking over the surgery table._ Okay, sure Dr. Katsuki had a graceful and elegant suture on the operating table,   _but fucking Viktor didn't need to contaminate the field with his DROOL over it_. Maybe if he made desperate enough eyes at Dr. Baranovskaya she would kick Viktor in his _gluteus_ _maximus_ with the end of her pointy pointy high heels. 

 

No such luck; instead the tumor was excised and field sterilized for final closure. Yuri had to extend sympathy for the poor sot. Gets his leg crushed by an I-beam and gets diagnosed with Stage 3 leukemia. Nothing says good times like disability and chemotherapy. And sepsis due to drool. He throws his surgical gown and mask in the biohazard cleaning bin, the gloves already trashed in the right trash can. 

 

He walks With Purpose towards the cafeteria. He needs a coffee stat. Anything to get the taste of someone being too lovey-dovey out of his mouth.

 

He’s half through a espresso with caramel syrup and cinnamon when he’s paged. Why the ever loving fuck a surgical resident is being paged is beyond him - he’s a Year One resident, he’s got  _ so fucking long _ in front of him before he's half qualified to be paged on his own. Hopefully it’s just something stupid simple like the demented patient they had to stick pins in pulled her stitches. He can take care of that no problem. 

 

Only it’s not. “You paged a  _ resident _ for a piece of  _ rebar _ sticking out of someone’s skull.” He’s breaking this down slowly for the Emergency Doctors, because sometimes they’re one harsh comment from bursting into tears or having a mental break and going on a mass killing spree and it’s hard to tell which it could be at any given moment. “This might just be me, but I’m not a  _ neurosurgeon _ .” He points at the patient, strapped like a mummy to the bed. “ _ That _ is definitely going through the brain.” 

 

The blank and glazed look from the Emergency Doctor gave Yuri everything he needed to know. “I’ll have the nurses page neurosurgery for you. Glad we had this talk.” He reaches out to pat him on the shoulder, then thinks better of it. Who knows what strange and nefarious diseases the Emergency personnel have? What new and subversive bacteria are percolating in the air? The best medicine is prevention after all,  and if Yuri doesn’t touch them he doesn’t have to  decontaminate himself to prevent infection. 

 

With this in mind Yuri takes the rest of his lunch break to dash up the secret ENT stairs - or the stairs ENT residents and fellows conspired hide behind the perpetually out of order vending machine, the one that's really just a facade to the door to the secret stairs and that the ENTs horde to themselves - from the ground floor to the 5th in order to hide in Otabek’s office. Because Otabek might be the last sane man in this whole damn hospital (including everyone but Dr. Baranovskaya, who is a legend and Yuri will begrudgingly worship at her feet in honor of the superior orthopedic surgery skills she has deemed him almost worthy of inheriting). 

 

Otabek looks up from an MRI of a skull, “Rough day?” In a practiced move, Yuri hauls out the only comfy extra stool in the ENT lounge - a space that previously held the hospital refrigerators for the morgue until the morgue got sent to the basement, that is technically on the hospital blueprints as housing a supply closet because the ENTs managed to persuade the administration they needed a 9 foot by 16 foot by 10 foot space for the oh so many supplies they need. They even had a twin bed at the ready, for the residents and fellows who had 28 hour call, unlike the “hospitality” suite for the other speciality residents and doctors. “Yura, you hate ears, noses, and throats, and the little kids and elderly who normally have problems with them.” 

 

It's like Otabek can read his mind, Yuri was about to think about how he'd gone into the wrong speciality. He takes the proffered mug of caffeine - the good fancy Godiva hazelnut stuff that tastes like pure sugar - and sips at it carefully. Besides, he wouldn't trade training under Dr. Yakov and Dr. Baranovskaya for the world - even given Viktor and his idiotic infatuation with Dr. Katsuki at its worst in the operating theaters. Still, for want of maintaining his reputation, he glares daggers and flaming hellscapes of death over the rim of the cup. “I accept that you are attempting to placate me. I will deign to let you believe that it is working in exchange for a foot rub.” He knows Otabek is laughing at him, because Otabek always laughs at his best Potya impression - spoiled brat of a cat really, Yuri wouldn’t trade her for anything - and usually gives Yuri a foot rub. Long surgeries in those stupid pinchy dress shoes Dr. Yakov insisted upon. Yuri hadn’t had time to go buy any Dr. Scholl’s or the gel heel guards, and it took its toll. 

“Eat your lunch, “ Otabek chides instead and turns back to the MRI. 

 

Yuri frowns and leans over to peer at the lightbox. “Is that...?”

 

Otabek nods. “5mm tumor in a 3 year old’s skull. It’s pressing on the child’s ear canal enough to cause hearing impairment.” Which means Otabek has to break it to a kid and  their parents he needs surgery - because it could be benign and any number of things that aren’t cancer, but it’s equally likely that it could be malignant and then you have to consider treatment options, but those are both discounting the fact that the tumor might have (probably) caused permanent hearing damage. Kid ear bones are still malleable, after all. But it also means Yuri gets to watch tumor removal from the pediatric surgeons. It’s a lose-win situation, one that’s more lose than win. 

 

It’s easy enough to set aside his coffee and gather Otabek close. Curl around him like his _Deda_ did to Yuri when Yuri was much smaller and much much angrier with the world. Yuri rocks back and forth like the metronome Otabek used once when he tried to teach Yuri the C scale on  a piano, steady to Otabek’s turmoil. “We didn’t go into medicine for this.” 

 

“No.” They didn’t. Not for the money or the prestige, but to help people, give them better lives. Some days that was harder to hold on to than others. He hears Otabek’s breaths fall back into their usual calm rhythm - how funny that wild and temperamental Yuri was the surgeon under pressure and calm and steady Otabek was the ENT - then opens with. “So I’m pretty sure Viktor gave Dr. Baranovskaya’s patient sepsis in the OR.” 

 

It’s worth it to hear the full laugh that spills from Otabek’s chest in spurts and hiccoughs. “Please don’t murder Viktor. Dr. Katsuki would go back to being unapproachable and cold.” Because Dr. Katsuki was weirdly cold when in public and otherwise difficult to gauge unless otherwise engaged by Viktor. 

 

“Meh. I could take Katsuki and Viktor without getting caught.” 

 

“Careful Yura. Your Russian is showing.” They stay like that for one more moment, letting the physical comfort of human touch flood their brains with comforting hormones.

 

Then Viktor - the ass - slammed open the door, startling both Yuri and Otabek but also Viktor. “Ah, Yuuri, the ENT suite is a no-go, it’s currently occupied! Maybe the chaise lounge in Yakov’s office?” Then as he was closing the door, he paused and threw a handful of condom packets at them. “Be safe kiddos!” 

  
Yuri would definitely have chased after Viktor to kill him  _ dead _ if not for the three condoms that had smacked themselves onto his person. “Cherry Flavored, Ribbed for her pleasure?” Otabek read out as he picked off the one from Yuri’s head. Then solemnly, “You’re free to kill Viktor now, but you might want to wait until tomorrow.” At Yuri’s puzzled look. “If that was Dr. Katsuki with him, he’s probably otherwise....  _ Engaged _ for murdering.” The lightbulb of comprehension comes on, and Yuri is furious. Yuri was going to murder  _ all _ the attendings.

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream with me on [ tumblr](http://modernart2012.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Please do feel free to leave concrit too! I appreciate it!


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